Hatred
by EE's Skysong
Summary: AU oneshot. What if Katara hadn't escaped in time? 'Sometimes hate is to cover up hatred of yourself. Sometimes hate is to cover up a different emotion, like love. And sometimes hate is just hate. I hate Zuko.' Katara fic, kinda dark


Disclaimer: "Hate can make you strong, but it will also make you blind and stupid."

(An: Before we begin… A) This is an AU of the season finale. Katara didn't manage to escape, and Aang died. Explained in the fic, but still. B) This is NOT a Zutara. I don't ship any particular pairing, I just like angst, and Zutara lends itself easily to that. Katara isn't covering anything up or lying to herself. Her rage is kind of like how she felt about Jet- she could have really liked him, but he screwed up. C) This isn't a happy fic. There's lots of references to suicide and black humor. I listened to Evanescence while writing it (lots of "Like You"; I feel kind of dirty…). I liked that Zuko didn't change. He's a bastard, and while I liked Good!Zuko, I hope he's always a bastard. It's funnier that way.)

I know a lot about hate. Sometimes, hating someone else is just to cover up that you hate yourself. Like that time Aang was better at waterbending than me. I was cross with myself for not being as good, so I took it out on him.

Or sometimes it's a cover up for something else. Love, for example (since it's the one everyone always uses). Like Jet. I was only so angry at him because I'd fallen so hard for him.

And sometimes hate is just hate.

I hate Zuko.

O-o-O-o-O

When Azula struck Aang with the lightning bolt, I thought I was going to fall along with Aang. I rushed to his side, bowling over the Dai Li. I didn't notice. I could feel the earth screaming. The cycle couldn't be broken. There couldn't be a true end to the airbenders. Aang couldn't die.

But he did. Iroh gave me the distraction, but I couldn't escape. I'd missed a member of the Dai Li with my tsunami, and he brought me down. I couldn't save him.

I woke up in a cell. There was a measly piece of bread and a glass of water in front of me. I didn't eat it. Couldn't.

There were a lot of things I couldn't do.

O-o-O-o-O

After Aang's death, I slept a lot. It hurt so much to wake up and realize that I'd only been dreaming, but it hurt even more to stay awake. Plus, I didn't have anything better to do. If I didn't starve, I would just keel over from boredom.

The third day, I forced myself to eat. The bread was tasteless and stale. The water tasted of chalk and grit. I swished it here and there, fingering the amulet beneath my chest. To think, I'd almost wasted something so precious on the likes of Zuko

I hated him.

Some of the water turned to steam, and that only made me madder. My hands were shaking as I bent it back into the glass and drank it slowly. Probably, if I saved it, I could use it to cut through the bars, like how Aang and I destroyed the Fire Nation drill.

Maybe later. I didn't have the heart now. I didn't have the heart for anything right then- living, dying, it was all the same. Only death would reunite me with Aang, but only alive could I have vengeance for all I'd lost.

He said the Fire Nation took away his mother. Ozai probably killed her for target practice. Or maybe it's what Zuko was banished for. I knew it was a horrible thing to think, but he was a horrible person.

O-o-O-o-O

I'd been there a week when Zuko came to visit. He knew not to come near a meal, when I would be awake and angry and have water. I was asleep, and I thought I was having a nightmare when I woke up and saw him sitting cross-legged outside my cell. I realized I wasn't asleep when he opened his eyes and murmured, "Hello."

In a nightmare, he would have skipped straight to the firebending. Why couldn't life be more like my dreams? Aang would be alive, or I would be dead.

I said nothing, just looked at him.

To his credit, he met my eyes. His face was unreadable. We just sat there for a minute. Neither of us was willing to be the first to break the silence.

Finally, he said, "You've been eating."

"If I wanted to kill myself, there are several ways I could do it less painfully than starving."

"You don't look like someone who wants to live."

"I don't." He didn't seem surprised. "I just know that Aang would want me to live. Besides…" I sat up and leaned against the bars. "If I die, I can't kill you." He still didn't seem surprised.

"I didn't kill the Avatar."

"You might as well have. You turned the tide of battle. We might have escaped but for you." I didn't sound like myself. Rage, hatred, and pain had transformed my voice into someone else's, someone I didn't know. I kind of liked it.

But he didn't flinch or show any reaction at all. It was starting to piss me off. I had been saving the water from the Spirit Oasis to do some good- I figured I'd end up using it for healing. Anything else would have, before, seemed like a waste. Now, though, I thought I might slit his throat with it.

I didn't, though. I felt the chain under my shirt, but I couldn't bring myself to take it out. For one thing, part of me was still seeing the sad young man I'd wanted to heal in the cavern under Ba Sing Se. I always wanted to fix people, and he had been broken. He was still broken, but now I was afraid of cutting myself on his jagged edges. Also, I knew that it would be wrong. Aang had spoken of peace, of befriending the young man who so often attacked him. It would be dishonoring his memory to kill.

But, worst of all, part of me just thought it wouldn't be the best revenge. Far more satisfying would be to let him live, let him suffer as I was suffering now, the days stretching on endlessly with no hope of redemption, no hope at all. Death was too easy for someone who had caused this much pain.

After a moment, Zuko said, "You're right. And you hate me for it." There was no emotion in his voice, like his face. If anything, he was just stating a fact. There are four nations. One plus one is two. Katara hates Zuko.

But I shook my head with a condescending, bitter twist to my lips. I rarely smirked before, and usually it was from amusement instead of spite. Now I didn't think I could ever smile properly again. "No, I don't. I did for a while, but now it's something else."

I thought I saw interest flash in his eyes for the briefest moment before he murmured, "What?"

I tapped my lips with a finger, pretending to mull it over. "I don't hate you… That's giving you too much credit. I think it's more like a distant pity."

I finally got a rise out of him. He almost jerked to his feet, fire blazing in his golden eyes. I was certain the temperature went up a few degrees. Then he remembered himself. The room cooled, and a smirk, much like my own, came to his lips. "You know, I'd kill anyone else for that. It's better to let you live, though, isn't it?"

I had been expecting something along those lines, but it was still like a fist crushing my heart. I realized that I had been praying his rage would get the better of him so he would end it for me. It would have been over, and it wouldn't have been my fault, so I wouldn't have had to feel guilty. "Yes, it is," I managed eventually. My voice was still someone else's, but at least it was steady.

He nodded, still with that cool smirk. He got to his feet.

"Wait!" I cried, not realizing I was going to say anything until the words were out of my mouth. "Why did you come here?"

He shrugged, absently playing with his ponytail. I suppose he had regained his honor. "To remind myself that I made the right choice."

Then he walked away, and I didn't try to stop him. I just hoped he wouldn't come back. While he was here, I could think of nothing else. My hatred burned away all other emotions.

Even now, though he was out of sight and his footsteps had long faded, my only thought as I watched my tears drip on the floor was, _ I hate him._

(…I need help, don't I? Twisted or not, I do like this… probably because it's late. Review!)


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